New York Haiku
by Ken Gaertner
While sniffing the grass
the subway rumbles.
Puppy looks up, confused.
Suddenly rain falls.
On the edges of the lake
lily pads tremble.
Coffee mug spills.
Brown petal blooms on linen.
Cash register rings.
In the tree
the sunlight quivers.
So, too, the squirrels tail.
The rising airplane
tips it’s wings
to that field of sunflowers.
As the mother bends
her son’s flailing hands
grasp her cheeks.
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Ken Gaertner has published poetry in numerous magazines and have eight plays produced in NYC and
elsewhere.
